Death of a Merriman
by Honey Jenkins
Summary: Felicity is rescued from Indian captivity by a runaway Ben who lives deep in the woods. At six years of age, spirited and stubborn, Felicity is quite the handful and Ben is ill prepared for the way his life is to change as he cares and provides for "Miss Lissie." NOTE: No character death!
1. Changes for Felicity

**Author's Note(s):  
**Well, here is the product of my Beta's challenge. I was told to write a Felicity story involving the name "Deadwood" and Indian captivity. Never mind that this turned into more of story about Ben's captivity, if you get my meaning. I don't think Beta minds. :P I did minimal research on this one due to a flaky internet and I'm sure it's riddled with errors. Try to ignore them if you can, or point them out kindly so I can fix them at some point.

For once, I have an update schedule! Since these are a collection of little snippets and I'm not so cruel as to leave large gaps between them I'll be posting on **Wednesdays** and **Fridays**, just like _The Dreamer_ of web comic fame. For lovers of liberty and tricorn hats, it would be a crime not to give _The Dreamer_ a read. It's at thedreamercomic dot com

Something to be aware of is that I did not begin my story in 1774, like the book series by Valerie Tripp. These events take place in 1765, after The French and Indian War and before the Revolution.

* * *

**Changes for Felicity**

Felicity Merriman was not merry. The red men with funny half-clothes and frowns on their faces were making her walk a long way. She couldn't keep up with their too-big steps, but she had to try. If she tripped and fell or made too much noise with her feet, the big one with the feathers carried her over his shoulder. He smelled badly and Felicity did not like how his skin felt against her elbows. She was six and she could walk on her own. Babies were carried. She was not a baby, so she fought and kicked until the bad smelling man let her down and pushed her from behind to go faster.

She was scared when they first took her. Papa was a merchant, and Mama always said that made them safe from the Indians. But Mama was wrong, because the men threw things out of their house and took the money, and Mama's jewels, and some fabrics, and Felicity too. Mama cried, but she said it would be all right and Papa would find her. Felicity believed it for a while but now she wasn't sure. They had been walking so very far, more than some yesterdays, and Papa wasn't good at hide-n-seek.

Now it was getting dark again. She had sores on her foot and wanted a drink. The man who pushed her gave her some water from an animal skin and tied her to a tree while they ate. He took the cloth out of her mouth, but did not untie her hands. He put something hard and chewy in her mouth and she ate it.

The next thing she knew, she was waking up in the arms of the bad smelling man and it was another morning.

In the camp with the other redskin people, they took her pretty dress away and made her wear Indian clothes. She did not want to be naked with the other children, and she cried and hid under the skins until the fat woman put the funny dress on her with fringe instead of ruffles.

They tried to give her a new name, too, but she did not like the long word they used. Mama said "Merriman" was for her merry little daughter, so she thought that was not her name anymore. The man was getting angry. He pointed to himself and said a word, then pointed to her and said the long one she didn't like. Felicity shook her head. She pointed to a tree, the smallest she could find. It was small because most of it was burnt from a fire. Papa called her "little sapling." If she could not be Felicity or Merriman, she would be Little Sapling. The angry man's eyes frowned more and he said words that she knew, but they were the wrong ones.

"Dead wood?"

Felicity crossed her arms and sniffed. He was a stupid man.

She didn't know how many days went by, but it was too many. The naked children were bold. They touched or tugged her hair, using the word they said for fire. She didn't like their words. They sounded mean. They also didn't wear any clothes. Felicity sometimes wished she didn't have to change out of her nightdress in the morning, but Mama always said she was to be a lady, and she missed her Mama. She had to be a lady so Mama would not scold when she came home.

After some days, the children stopped playing with her. They stopped tugging her hair and she liked that. The girl with black eyes took her doll back. She did not like that. The mean eyes got meaner. The nice eyes ignored her. She didn't feel sad for losing her friends, except she wanted the doll. Her name was Elizabeth when they played, and she understood Felicity's words.

Felicity played in the dirt and she did not wear shoes. Mama would not have liked that, but there was nowhere else to play and no one tried to give her a bath.

At least she wasn't hungry. Felicity was taught to mind proper mealtimes like all good children, but most of the time she could get nibbles if she pestered Rose long enough. It was the same here. The women who had soup and flat bread tried to ignore her too, but she spoke loud and pointed to her empty tummy until food was given.

One day, a man came into the camp. He wore the same kind of clothes as Marcus, but dirtier, and his hat was lighter. He looked at her with startled eyes. It made Felicity giggle. He did not ignore her like the naked children. He pointed to her and asked the men questions with their own funny words.

He came over and knelt in front of her. "What is your name, little one?"

"Felicity," she said, and thought her curtsey was good.

The man laughed. "Well, aren't you the polite little miss? Do you have any other names?"

"Little Sapling. And Deadwood, sir." She remembered her manners. She thought she might have forgotten, but she hadn't. Mama would be proud.

"And how did you come to be here, Miss Felicity?"

"Those men came and robbed our house then they took me with them. Papa was supposed to find me, but I think we went too far."

"What is your papa's name?"

Was he stupid, too? "Papa. His name is Papa."

He shook his head, but he was smiling and not cross with her. "Of course it is."

He asked her more questions. Some she couldn't answer, some she didn't want to. She was _sure_ she didn't like it here. That question was easy to answer. In the end, he asked, "Is there anything here of yours you'd like to take with you?"

Felicity looked at the girl with black eyes. She was standing behind her taller brother, still holding Elizabeth. She sighed. Elizabeth was not hers.

"No, sir."

"Not 'sir,' Miss Lissie. You call me Ben."

She had her own question. "Are you taking me home, Ben?"

"We shall see."

And the man named Ben with the faded hat and the nice smile _asked_ if she would like to be carried.


	2. Changes for Ben

**Changes For Ben**

Benjamin Davidson had no horse. Horses left distinguishing marks in the ground; much more than his own two feet. The little lady beside him walked quietly, her hands folded in front of her while he kept a lookout for danger. She was the perfect gentlewoman in the making, though she possessed a definite streak of independence. She had flatly declined his offer to carry her and did her best to creep along with him when he wished to tread more cautiously. He had seen the tiny gown of rich materials worth enough to feed him for a week and determined she was not of humble origins.

Though he was not either, nothing about his appearance attested to that fact, and nothing about his situation enabled him to enjoy the benefits of a fine family. Whether his family had any knowledge of his whereabouts, Ben did not know. He had not been in contact with them for some time. God only knew what his master saw fit to write them after he'd broken his word and fled.

A gentleman's daughter and a runaway. What a pair.

Why, by heaven, did he take her with him? She wasn't in danger. He knew the tribe that took her would treat her well. Feed her and clothe her, at least. He was a bachelor, living alone in a small house nestled far enough away for the civilized not to stumble upon. He was barely able to scratch up the nerve to buy supplies in town for fear of recognition and a forced return to his master. How was he going to care for a rich man's child?

But she didn't belong with the others. That is what he told himself as she answered all his questions the best she could muster. She was brought to take the place of a little girl who died of a fever, but the woman who was to adopt her died as well before the others returned. No one wanted her then. For that, and perhaps something more, he decided it best to take her with him until a better solution arose.

_-x-_

He would need another bed. This much was clear as he stood staring at the single bunk with a sleeping girl in his arms. His options were few.

He could not sleep in the bed with her in it. He could not put her in the loft in case she tumbled over the edge in her sleep. Regardless of age, it would not do to place a lady on the floor. Ben smiled at his own foolishness. Evidently, he took her words as more than a child's fancy.

For the time being, he put her in his bed and gathered blankets for the loft where he would spend the night. It was much like his previous situation, sleeping in the loft of his master's barn. It made him uneasy to be reminded of the past. He'd been away over five years now, but still the guilt had a hold on him. No matter the good deeds and honest doings since then, he knew his honor had not been restored. Perhaps restoring the fledgling to her family was the act of penance necessary to ensure he could sleep at night.

Perhaps…

From then on, Ben was no longer a bachelor. Everything seemed to revolve around the little lady he brought into his home.

The following night he turned some old shirts into a row of stuffed pillows big enough for Miss Lissie to sleep on. He was fearful at first of her going up and down the ladder, but her enthusiasm and natural abilities soon convinced him to let her climb into bed without fretting.

That did not stop him from waking up in starts to see that she had not fallen to her death, or moving his bedding to the floor just under the loft in order to sleep through the night.

By sunset of the ninth day, Lissie had her own bed, constructed large enough to fit her for many years to come. Ben told himself it was purely for his own peace of mind and no other reason that he took hours better spent hunting on putting together a pine frame and a stuffed mattress. The reason for its dimensions was justified in that once her family was found and she returned to them, _he_ could make use of it. His own bed frame was crudely assembled and well outdated.

For nightclothes, Ben had nothing for her to wear but his old shirts. Living in seclusion had taught him never to throw anything out that still had wear left and there were more than a few at the back of his chest. Though small on him, they had room for two Miss Lissies to fit comfortably, and she was provided great amusement by the sleeves that made her arms "as long as Papa's."

She would not let him walk her to the necessary house, and when he made the mistake of offering his assistance in the morning, she declared, "I can get dressed by myself."

"That is a relief, Miss Lissie."

Her independence was not limited to taking care of her toilette, however. She was eager to learn and pestered Ben with questions on every subject, pertinent or no. The only thing she showed little interest in was sewing. Necessity had forced Ben to teach himself the simple things, but after a few short lessons on mending, Lissie was off to find diversions that involved less sitting and concentrated patience.

"I want to do that!" she cried, abandoning her stitching to watch Ben stir the stew.

"Do you, now?"

She nodded eagerly. "How do you make it?"

He hoisted her onto his shoulders to prevent her grabbing the ladle and upsetting the bubbling liquid. "I'll show you."

She squealed and pulled at his hair as he swung her up. "But the fire is down there!"

"If you want to see how it is made we have to gather things to put _in_ the stew, first. Open that cupboard."

"This one?"

"Aye."

She grabbed his chin to steady herself, opening the cupboard with her free hand. He could tell by her tone she was scrunching her face up, much like she did when told to eat something she found distasteful. "I do not like the whistles on your face."

"Whistles?"

"Papa gets whistles, but Mama makes him shave. 'Tis prickly."

"Ah, you're not fond of my whiskers."

"Aye!"

He laughed at her then, just as he laughed that same evening when he caught himself shaving on the insistence of a six year old. His mirth made his hand unsteady and he nicked himself in his carelessness.

"Do you see what you've done to me?" he growled at a fascinated Lissie.

She merely giggled in response.

* * *

**A/N:** I am posting this now at 12:25am (which means 'tis indeed Friday) because I work tomorrow and have no idea how exhausted I'll be when I get home. Plus, the internet has been rather shaky around here and I want to post while I'm confident it'll go through.

Seems Ben is adapting quite well to his new house guest. Any guesses as to the age gap between these two? It may raise some eyebrows to those of modern sensibilities. Remember, these are different times. Different as in FUN times! Imeanwhat?


	3. A Question of Mending

**A Question of Mending**

A whole month passed before Ben gave in to the pressing problem that Felicity needed clothes. Though she was learning to mend and darn, Lissie had not gained the ability to make full garments, nor earned the patience to tackle the complicated patterns of female attire. He knew the Indian garb would not last forever, both in stability and her speed of growth. He wanted, for her sake and the small chance she would be seen in town, to keep to skirts.

There was much trial and error in those first attempts to clothe her. He sewed her first frock himself, altering a nightshirt into a dress and small cap, but it was clear she needed something of a more sturdy material to play in and he would soon run out of nightshirts from the amount of layers required to prevent the frock from being unseemly.

He knew if she set her mind to it, she could learn to sew her own skirts. The problem lay in her _not_ setting her mind to it. She declared that she wanted to wear breeches; that tree climbing and berry picking were too hard in a dress.

"What happened to being a lady?" he prodded.

She stuck out her lower lip, mulling it over. "I'll wear skirts, but I won't sew my own."

He said not a word in return, but the following morning she woke to find an empty sugar sack folded by her bed with rough holes cut for a head and two arms to fit through.

"I cannot move well in this, and it scratches my legs," she complained at breakfast, looking the part of a dejected waif child.

Ben tried valiantly not to laugh. "Well, you know the solution, Miss Lissie. You can sew your own skirts that allow you to walk more freely. I'm afraid I cannot always be seamstress to you."

She made no reply, but Ben felt he had won a small victory.

From then on she sewed her own skirts, though Ben's nightshirts were still taken as shifts. He instructed her in keeping them a mite too large so that they would last longer as she grew.

But even so, they could not always wait for food stores to run out in order for Lissie to have material for clothes, and those he traded with did not have anything to make children's gowns with. Ben was forced to go into town.

He did not know what had become of her shoes, so he admonished her to take care of splinters as he led her up the steps of the store on the outskirts. He avoided the general store as it was too central to others who might recognize the boy-turned-man from an old notice. He did not know how deep his old master's anger might run, but if there was still a reward offered five years of hiding did not make him safe.

With a further nettling of guilt, he realized he had made no effort to locate Lissie's family. Though long accustomed to solitude, in the blink of an eye it had become natural to care for another living soul. Making her comfortable had completely overshadowed the thought to return her to whomever she belonged.

As soon as they passed the threshold of the shop, Lissie was in full possession of her ladylike ways, letting her surroundings dictate her behavior. Here she was quiet, polite, and proper. She stood by him, watching and listening, speaking only when spoken to, and never much louder than in a soft undertone.

The shopkeeper's wife was quite taken with her—though somewhat bemused by her singular form of dress—and leaned over the counter to pat her head.

"Is she your daughter?" she asked Ben.

"No."

"Your sister, then."

He was not certain why he felt it necessary to correct her.

"No."

She eyed him with suspicion, but let the matter drop.

Ben waited until Lissie was preoccupied with the shelf of preserves before asking after her family, a nervousness building up inside him when the shopkeeper hesitated to reply.

"Deadwood? No, there's none by that name nearby. I'll keep an ear open and be sure to tell you what I find when you pass this way again."

Ben thanked him for his time and assistance and hurried away, intending never to 'pass that way again' for the risks involved.

He could not account for the breath of relief he expelled once they left the shop.

Whenever Ben traded—which was not often, and almost always in a different town—he inquired after the Deadwoods. Each time he was given blank stares or shaking heads, and each time he left with his heart a little lighter. 'Twas in relief of not having to explain himself to her kin, he mused, and conjuring a story to satisfy the question of how he came to find her. It had naught to do with the discovery that his life felt purposed again since Miss Lissie had entered it.

_-x-_

As the time that marked their first year together approached, Ben could no longer put off another hunt. The skins and furs from one prolonged trip were invaluable for trade, and warmth through the winter. He decided Miss Lissie was old enough to be left home for the one, possibly two weeks he would be away. He made a latch she could reach for the door, though it would not prevent one determined man from breaking it down, and told her if anyone came to the house and did not announce themselves she was to hide under her bed.

Every moment, he worried. He worried that Lissie would fall asleep before the fire and a stray ember would begin an inferno from which she'd find no escape. He worried she would not be content with the simple meals he told her to eat and would injure herself trying to make something more complex. He worried most of all that savages or brutes would stumble upon his home and she'd be taken from him forever.

It seemed whole months had dragged by when Ben finally reached the humble house in the woods, although reality suggested a far shorter time spent away. He pounded on the door and listened for the scurry of her bare feet against the floor. Before she could make it out of earshot, he shouted, "Lissie, 'tis I, Ben!"

The scurrying patter returned. The latch was undone and she peered out at him from a small crack as she cautiously opened the door. "Ben!" The door was flung open wide and she bounded into his arms. "I was running to hide, but you said 'tis Ben and I let you in!"

"You did a fine job, Miss Lissie. How did you fare while I was away?" he tapped her nose for good measure.

"'Twas very dull," she sighed, "I darned all the socks and made a new skirt and I ate what you told me to," she said with regret.

He grinned at her disapproving pout. "Since you have tended the house so well, I've brought you a surprise." He set her down to find the gift tucked away in his bag.

"A surprise! What sort of surprise? Is it a good supper?"

Ben shook his head and presented her with a small parcel. He was anxious that she like it, afraid perhaps she was too old for such trifles. Already she rejected so many of his notions as absurd, firing at him, "I'm far too old for that."

So it was with great fear that he watched her unwrap the brown paper and pull from it a cornhusk doll, almost identical to one he had seen her coveting a full year ago—though perhaps the mouth was a bit askew in comparison. He waited for the look; the one to confirm that he'd been foolish to think she'd enjoy something so childish.

She breathed a single word, "_Elizabeth_," and he knew he had done well.

Of course, he took to calling her doll Bitsy just to tease the child. There was something delightful in the way she cried, "Ben!" and chided him as if _she_ were the elder.

_-x-_

"When will you grow up, so you can marry me?"

Ben sat with his hands folded behind his head and his boots crossed on the table. Lissie was sitting quite straight, scooping small bits of porridge into her mouth and trying very hard not to spill.

"I'm to marry a gentleman, Mama says," was her simple reply. Though her family was often mentioned, she expressed no desire to return, nor questioned his inability to locate them. It was as if she accepted they were not to be reunited and did her best to honor their principles whenever it was convenient to remember them or caused argument with Ben.

"Who says I am not a gentleman?"

"Your clothes are dirty, and your shoes don't have buckles." She cast a sideways glance at the offending boots.

"Ah, I see. A gentleman for a gentlewoman. Though you're not such a proper lady yourself, Miss Lissie."

Horror passed over her face and the spoon trembled in mid-air. "Why not?"

"I don't believe gentlewomen climb trees or try to run faster than the rabbits."

To his dismay, her eyes filled with tears and she sniffled pathetically. The spoon returned to the bowl, her last scoop untested.

"What in heaven's name is wrong?"

"Mama said I need to be a lady." She began to cry and her head dropped into her arms crossed atop the table.

"Don't cry, Lissie girl." He removed his boots from off the table and leaned forward to pat her sorry head. "I won't tell your Mama about the rabbits and climbing."

She looked up, red faced and puffy eyed. "Do you give your word?"

Ben opened his mouth, and for a sickening moment, he couldn't remember how to speak. Then he gave her a sad smile. "Yes, Lissie. I give you my word, and what's more, I will keep every promise I make to you." He used the corner of the tablecloth to dab her cheeks. "Perhaps God will forgive me if I make amends through you."

"What's a mends?" she questioned.

"Well… have you ever been very sorry for something? So sorry that you had to give something back?"

It took her but a moment to ponder. "I lost Nan's rattle. Mama made me share my ark since she had no toys."

"Aye. That is making amends."

Lissie cocked her head to one side. "Have you been very naughty, Ben?"

"I have. But you're to help me become a man of my word. Can you do that for me, Lissie?"

She nodded very seriously. For a moment she seemed to ponder the weight of such a charge, then without warning cheerfully exclaimed, "Shall we make biscuits now? You promised to teach me!"

* * *

**A/N:** _Mister, I'll, make an honest man, out of yooooou!_

Sorry, wrong genre. I couldn't... not... sing that. :P

I wish to thank those who reviewed anonymously, for I could not PM my gratitude. I'm very glad you're enjoying the story, and I hope you continue to!

Technically it's still Tuesday here but in other parts of the world, (like where Ben and Lissie live) it's already Wednesday. So hah! :P I have to post early because I have the opening shift at my cafe tomorrow and I'd like to think some of you are enjoying this while I'm slaving over bagel boxes and pastry displays. Otherwise, the update would have to wait until late afternoon or early evening when I got back.

I also give many thanks to Beta Mistress, _Kitty Pimms_ for offering to post this for me in the event I was not around at a reasonable hour to do so. :)


	4. Bits and Breeches

**Bits and Breeches**

Ben stood up with a start, nearly upsetting the stew he tended. He had not heard nor seen Lissie in some time. Dusk was falling, and 'twas irregular for her not to make an appearance for supper.

"Lissie?" he called. She was not in her room, not in his. The door to the necessary swung open on his knock, and the spring house did not hide her.

As fear began stirring in his gut, Ben took the pot off the fire and went in search of the flighty girl.

-x-

Felicity pressed her head against the horse's mane and squeezed her eyes shut. Her grandfather had taught her so many things about horses: how to approach, how to groom, and feed, and speak to them, how to ride, both astride and sidesaddle as Mama insisted. All of it came flooding back to memory at the sight of the red-brown mare, slating her thirst in the creek.

Bribing her was easy. Felicity climbed an apple tree and brought back the bounty to her new friend, placing several on the ground at the foot of a tall rock. She waited patiently for the horse to come for the treats and used the rock to boost herself onto the mare's back. All had been well until then.

The mare did not like the strange weight and immediately tried to buck her off. Felicity squealed and clung tight, but the stubborn horse was determined to remove the girl and reared most violently.

Lissie was unaware of how much time passed as she held fast, but despite the desperate tension in her fingers and neck and back, she endured, praying that soon, _very _soon, Ben would notice she was missing.

She thought she heard him calling her name but was too frightened to open her eyes.

"Lissie!" Yes, that was Ben. He would be so cross with her! She tightened her hold, looking less forward to his displeasure than being thrown from a horse. "When it stops bucking, I want you to let go." She did her best to shake her head, but he couldn't see. "I'm going to catch you," he promised. Ben lowered his voice to a soothing murmur, calming the feisty mare as best he was able.

Finally, it seemed to tire, and now that she was no longer being shaken out of her wits, Lissie was able to catch her breath. She dared to open her eyes.

Ben came forward, arms outstretched. In a hoarse voice he bid her let go.

She could not. She could not let go or she would fall, and break her legs, and get trampled to death by the angry mare.

Not wasting a moment, Ben tore her from the horse's back and fell to his knees with an armful of Lissie as the horse sprang away. She clung to him for dear life, unable to tell whose heart was racing faster.

"What," Ben asked when he'd caught his breath, "were you thinking? You cannot ride wild horses!"

"I don't think she's wild," she panted, still holding fast to the security of his arms. "She had a mark… she belonged to someone, but was treated poorly. I shouldn't have tried riding her yet. She wasn't ready."

Ben took her by the shoulders. "You are not to go near that horse again!"

"I'm nine years old and no infant you can order about," Lissie huffed.

"I wouldn't care if you were nine and twenty, foolish girl! You'll not go near it again!"

"You're not my father, Ben Davidson, and you cannot forbid me!"

"No, yet I'm far older and stronger than you, and I can prevent you."

She shoved him away in defiance and glared at him a moment before stalking off towards the house. Just before she disappeared behind a straggle of trees, she called back over her shoulder, "I hope you haven't burnt our supper!"

Ben rose from his seat in the ground and tried to still his shaking limbs.

What was he to do with such a willful girl?

-x-

The door creaked loud as a bell to Felicity's straining ears as she scuttled outside under the moon's pale light. She waited a moment until certain the noise had not awoken Ben before creeping on. She kept a pair of his breeches—found far in the back of his chest and never seen worn by him—tucked under an arm while she closed the door behind her. She did not trust herself to change in her room. The stirring and shuffling might alert Ben to her scheme.

She held her breath until safe in the necessary house, changing with hasty fingers, tightening the breeches with a length of rope. She bounded off to the apple tree, feeling her way to the upper branches by memory, selected an apple by touch, and rushed to her secret meadow where the mare would be waiting.

She did this every night, taking apples to her and slowly earning trust. Bit by bit, she coaxed her to eat apples from her hand, be led about on a rope, and at long last she could ride without the horse trying to throw her. Felicity grinned to think what Ben would say when he saw her riding this "wild horse" who had been tamed.

Ben did not say much of anything. He certainly looked ready to; his mouth hung ajar in an angry way and he looked as if he had quite a lot to scold Lissie for. In the end, he looked up to heaven and sighed instead of speaking.

It was not until she had gone a few circles around the house and dismounted without assistance that he spoke. "I suppose she'll need a name."

Lissie laughed merrily. "Perhaps something to remind you of how _wild_ she is."

He ignored her teasing. "Penny, I think; for her shiny copper coat."

"Penny? What do you mean?"

"A copper piece?" Ben looked at her in astonishment. "You do know what a penny is, surely! You must. I am certain you've seen a penny before."

"Perhaps, but… 'tis been some time." Felicity undid her hair and shook it out so it fell in tangles around her shoulders. "Penny. 'Tis a fine name for a horse."

"Shall I take a trip to town for a bit and bridle?"

Lissie watched as Penny nickered and shook her own brownish mane. "No. She should be free to come and go as she pleases. I'll not keep her like a pet. She's an independent Penny."

Ben nodded. It seemed not long ago Lissie's highest delight came of climbing apple trees with Bitsy or racing rabbits. Now she was taming horses and asserting the importance of the creature's independence.

Her wild hair brushed his arm as she walked past. "But I shall need to keep your breeches."

* * *

**A/N:** I want a man who wears breeches! My Beta and I have determined that the reason we're haggard old maids at 20 is because Pleasant Company retired the Felicity doll. See, if more people were aware of Felicity's story, fathers would realise the importance of taking on young apprentices, and we'd grow up with husbands already in mind.

So thanks a lot, Pleasant Company, for ruining our chances at a happy marriage. Dx

Also, I know this is late. I spent the day out of town, questing with my best friend for hot and sticky toffee pudding. The pub we went to served some that rivaled the toffee pudding in England! *le gasp!*

I'm barely making the deadline before Friday officially ends for me. My deepest apologies. I give you a sweeping bow.


	5. Straying Eyes

**Straying Eyes**

Felicity gasped, and looked away.

He saw warmth spread to her cheeks in a blush, and he wondered at it. She didn't seem able to tear her eyes from the ground but rather stood frozen there. They had both just emerged from their rooms after oversleeping as the summer heat tended to make them lazy, and Ben was quite anxious for breakfast.

"Shouldn't we eat?"

"I… breakfast. Aye. Shall… shall I go dress, first?" Her toes were not as fascinating as what her focused gaze would have him believe. Ben took closer account of himself. He was not wearing a shirt. Could that be the cause for her odd behavior? He wasn't wearing stockings, either. Now that he thought of it, he'd never emerged from his room in so little.

Now that he thought more of it, Felicity would be wise not to come out in so little herself. Her chemise was of her own making; snug in the arms and loose elsewhere, but the material was not very thick.

They quickly retreated back into their own rooms to dress for the day.

Felicity's day clothes were not much better. Though his main concern was always that she wear skirts, it was clear he had overlooked a vital piece of a lady's wardrobe. He was not familiar with many pieces of womanly attire, but he was certain no lady would be seen without some covering for… That is… Her growing teats should not be so prominent beneath the light fabric.

"Lissie," he began, looking anywhere but at her, "I think it is time you had some new clothes."

"I just made some new skirts."

"Yes, but perhaps something more of a top," he went on, the awkwardness made worse by his complete avoidance of her questioning gaze. "Don't young ladies wear something with ribbons or things, to hide certain…" he coughed and looked away, unable to continue.

"A stomacher? That does not sound very comfortable. I won't wear one."

Frustrated beyond all measure that the task of explaining _womanly endowments _should fall to him, Ben raised his voice. "Felicity, you cannot continue to wear my shirts like this!"

She was taken aback. Ben never called her "Felicity." She was "Miss Lissie," or sometimes "Lissie girl" when he was in a particularly good mood. The fact that he used her full name worried and confused her as much as his apparent offense at her garments.

"I don't understand! You want your shirts back? But they will not fit you, now!"

"I don't want my shirts back! I want you to cover yourself and maintain your modesty!" He pushed away from the table and strode outside in a huff.

Felicity sat, puzzled. What could he mean by 'modesty?'

She decided to ask him.

He had been heading, she thought, to the stream. He often sat by the stream when distressed. Felicity would sit with him until he was done thinking his problem away. Sometimes he spoke, sometimes she did, but never too much, and only after he was ready. Then he'd turn and smile at her, and life went on.

He was not by the stream today.

Felicity glumly crept to the edge of the water and sat alone. Her reflection frowned at her, freckles scrunched up at her nose. She bent to tap ripples on the water and saw straight down the open neck of her shift. Felicity blanched and held the top against her by the shoulders. This presented another problem in new, smallish protrusions poking at the thin fabric. _Now_ she understood Ben's concern. Why, she looked shameless as the half-naked children from a long ago memory.

Felicity took her shawl, despite the summer heat, and wrapped it around her, tying it loosely at the front before she sought Ben.

Finally, she found him sitting under the apple tree where Penny was first tamed, head down and shoulders slumped. She realized with an impish grin, that she was taller than him this way.

"Why are you sitting here like this when I'm the one who should be mortified?"

He raised his head, but only a little. She wondered if he was afraid to catch another eyeful of her new attributes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lost my temper."

"Well, that is certainly true. Aren't you going to make amends?" He eyed her warily.

"I do need new material if I'm to make more clothes."

_-x-_

Felicity hated everything in the shop. It was all either too drab or too fine, and she could not picture any of it in dress form.

She was about to settle for a grey, but as she sighed to tell Ben they should end their fruitless quest, she spied a doll in a rosebud print and ruffled sleeves, standing behind a spool of green thread. She could not remember the last time she had worn a dress—for she steadfastly refused to consider the deerskin smock of old to be considered such—and she wondered if it would prove cumbersome in comparison to her blouses and skirts.

This, she could see, not only because it was shown plainly on the doll as a suitable gown, but something in the pattern told her it was meant for her. The neckline was high enough that Ben should not object, and any similar awkwardness to that morning could be avoided in future.

And she did adore the ruffles, even if they would be tiresome to make herself. Perhaps the little bows accenting the sleeves would not prove too extravagant. Lissie suppressed a giggle. Had she ever worn bows?

As they gathered the essential materials needed for the making of the dress, Ben noted Lissie's reluctance to put the doll back where she'd found it. Before she set it down, he added, "And the doll."

"Not for the doll," Lissie said quickly, though she was beaming, "I need it to make the dress properly. Elizabeth should not mind."

Ben scoffed in response that the feelings of tightly wound cornhusk should require consideration; though secretly he was pleased.

"Aye, Bitsy shall not mind."

* * *

**A/N:** Mine Beta must be thanked profusely, for finishing this snippet was like pulling teeth for me. I'm not sure if it's work exhaustion, or the fact that this snippet is relatively new in comparison to the pre-written ones and therefore was given less time for edits... but due to _Kitty Pimm_'s persistence, this was accomplished!


	6. A Rough Night

**A Rough Night**

Felicity could not get comfortable. Sleeping on her side was impossible, lying on her stomach intolerable. She was too warm, but felt chilled. Her arms were riddled with gooseflesh, her forehead dampened with sweat. She tossed the blankets aside a third time, moaning over a strange ache low in her stomach. Perhaps she needed the privy.

Felicity sat up, annoyed. Her honeyed biscuits should not be treating her so viciously. Slinging her feet over the side of her bed to find her slippers gave her the first notice of warmth between her legs. She stood up with a start, lighted the candle by her bed, and moved the soft glow to illuminate a gruesome sight.

A puddle of blood had settled in a spot on the blanket. The accompanying smudges no doubt disrupted by her tossing about. Her sickened gaze traveled to the front of her nightdress, which was stained like the back with more blood.

She snatched up the single, untarnished blanket and wrapped it around herself like a cloak, even though she was too warm. She paced—a habit begun from no one knew where—unsure of what to do.

It took the better portion of an hour for her to seek help.

Ben slept in his nightshirt, arm slung over the side of the bed. She shook his shoulder, hoping he would wake at once, praying that he would not wake at all.

"Ben…" her voice shook. He stirred. She backed away, contemplating running back into her room and barricading the door with her chair.

He woke slowly. When he saw her, he sat up in an instant, tugging his blanket higher and tighter around his middle. "Lissie, what is it? Did you have a nightmare?"

She rolled her eyes, insulted. "I do not get frightened of nightmares."

"Then what? Are you hurt?"

"I think… I think I am very ill. I couldn't sleep, and… and then I got up and there's blood… a lot of blood."

"Hand me my breeches."

She obliged him, careful to move in a way that would not reveal what was under her covering, and kept her back to him as he dressed.

"Where are you hurt?" he asked when he was fairly decent. She shook her head. Puzzled, Ben made his way to her room, now sure she'd had a nightmare and was too stubborn to admit fear of imagined dangers.

Then he saw the bed with unarguable proof that her nightmare was real. "What happened?" He would have thought she'd had an accident while eating apples in bed again, but he saw no blood on her hands, no implement she could have hurt herself with by being careless. "Where are you hurt?" he repeated. "I won't be cross about the apples. I just want to help you."

She refused, forcing him to pry her hands away and part the blanket.

Felicity knew Ben to be the braver of the two. She could run to him with anything fearful and he'd laugh like it was nothing and then tell her a story or pat his rifle to assure her everything would be fine.

Ben was not laughing, and Felicity paled to see the look of terror on his face. She had never seen him so scared before. Not even after Penny tried to throw her.

Quick as a wink, he returned to his room, shoving his feet into his boots and reaching out to carry Felicity. She back away warily. "Where are we going?"

"You need a doctor. We're going into town."

"No!"

"Felicity, they won't hurt you, I promise. The townsfolk aren't bad people."

"No. The doctor knows everyone in town! He could recognize you, or realize… They'll take you away! I'll not lose my family again."

Ben swallowed hard and nodded slowly. He picked her up; a roll of blanket and skinny limbs, and strode to the door.

"Ben, no!" came an angry wail from his flailing cargo.

"I'm not taking you to town," he said, and out he strode into the night.

_-x-_

The healer's tent looked no different from the others.

Lissie stood just outside of it, fighting a great many memories she was not glad to remember at the moment. Ben had caused quite a stir by striding into the village and begging for a healer. A displeased sentry pointed them to the correct teepee. The wrinkled face of an aged woman peered out from behind the tent flap, beckoning Felicity to come in. Felicity was glad to note that Ben stayed outside.

Through a girl who spoke some English, the old woman asked where the pain was. Felicity answered by pushing the blanket off her shoulders, frowning all the while.

The woman stared at the drying red splotch on her nightdress. She unceremoniously, and without Felicity's consent, pulled the nightgown above her belly and poked and prodded her in places no hands belonged. Felicity was disturbed to see a smile creep over the old woman's face as she spoke to the girl. She was offended beyond all reason when the girl began to giggle.

While mixing a draught of something meant to ease her aches and help her sleep, the old woman rasped out the changes Felicity was going through from girl to woman, putting much emphasis on things Felicity could barely understand, making the foolish girl translate while she helped Felicity out of her soiled nightdress and cleaned her legs, again, without permission.

_-x-_

Outside the tent, Ben broke conference with the girl who laughed at everything. She had evidently been explaining the entire, humiliating truth of the matter. She did not speak very quietly, and Felicity had a dreadful urge to strike her soundly.

Ben was still blushing when they left for home, and Felicity was in a proper temper. Although he avoided looking directly at her, he still offered to carry her back. She marched ahead of him, in no mood to be treated like a child.

"Lissie…" he started.

She turned around suddenly, making him stumble back and almost trip in his haste to hide from the ferocity of her glare.

"Not a word, Benjamin Davidson! Not a single word!"

He complied, making their walk silent save for the angry stomping of a grown-up Felicity.

* * *

**A/N:** Oh, womanhood, thou art a cruel mistress. I think we should go back to early Native American customs, where a woman gets her own tent of isolation when she's "on the rags." It's only fair! I think I shall inform my place of employment immediately. "My register must be in isolation from the others for these seven days."

I should point out that this is Beta's favourite snippet thus far. And I believe 'tis mine, as well. :) Something about Ben dealing with the awkwardness of such things... it's kind of special. :P


	7. Felicity Learns a Lesson

**Felicity Learns a Lesson**

Lissie was ill. Ben told her not to stay out in the cold and rain, but she _would_ visit Penny on the anniversary of their meeting. He understood the importance, even stood over her with his coat held high so she wouldn't get drenched while she crooned and stroked her beloved horse, but she'd been out far too long and was suffering for it. Her head was heavy, she said, she was visibly paler, and she had chills.

She didn't complain once. Nestled into his shoulder, her soft waves of hair fell around them as Ben had no wish to stuff it in a cap for the sake of what was deemed proper nightclothes. If she wanted one, she would make it perfectly clear. But as she shuffled out in her nightdress and curled up on the worn, cushioned bench, a nightcap was no so much as mentioned.

He had to admit she was not a doll to be dressed upon his—or etiquette's—whim, nor was she ever. But especially now as she lay so quietly, and sweetly asked for another blanket to burrow under, she seemed quite nearly a woman, and Ben had to clear his throat as his voice caught before he acquiesced.

Stretching her toes like a kitten, she took an agonized breath through her nose.

"What if I can't marry a gentleman?"

Ben cast her a sideways glance, ever surprised at her ability to leap into the most irrelevant of subjects at a moment's notice.

"Lucy says one must be a perfect lady to get a husband, and I can't even sit on a bench properly." Lucy was a girl she had met briefly during their last jaunt into town. She was quite friendly and eager to touch upon every topic imaginable, barely taking a breath between sentences. Ben thought her quite ridiculous.

The problem of getting a proper husband seemed to weigh upon Lissie, for she heaved a deep sigh and rubbed her temple as if in painful thought.

"She's a stupid girl who doesn't know anything," Ben stated. "No sensible man wants a wife who sits and gossips over stitchery all day long. And you are to marry me," he jested. She did not respond, being lost in her own melancholy thoughts, so he shrugged his shoulder to get her attention. "Should you like that? To marry me someday?"

Her eyes brightened and color came back to her cheeks for a moment, "Oh, yes! Very much!"

"Then I promise I shall. When you are fully grown up, I promise to marry you, my Lissie girl."

She did not press for a more specific time or what he might consider fully grown up. She merely smiled and fell asleep against his shoulder.

He tucked her into bed and left a kiss on her forehead before turning in for the night.

* * *

**A/N:** I know this is quite short, but it remains one of my own favourite pieces. And worry not! Though the snippets are short, Friday's update shall have things happen which I believe makes up for the lack of word count. I hope 'tis so in your own estimation, readers. :) I truly appreciate your reviews!


	8. Felicity's Kin

**Felicity's Kin**

Felicity sat on her knees, rocking back in forth in her impatience. It was past dawn, and Ben should have been up by now. She'd stolen into his room with the intention of shaking him awake, but he lay there so peacefully and she couldn't bring herself to disrupt the pleasant dreams that made his sleeping face so youthful.

She realized she had no idea how old Ben was. His face was smooth, free of whiskers; though he told her begrudgingly that was for _her_ preference, voiced at six. His soft brown eyes gave no indication of age, and closed as they were, no wrinkles formed on his brow. His lips especially were youthful, even in sleep twitching ever towards his incorrigible smirk.

With little else to do, Felicity let her mind wander back to their Bible reading the night before. Many times Felicity practiced sitting still—and failed; fidgeting until she fell asleep—while Ben faithfully traversed the Holy Scriptures. But last night he had read the story of Jacob and Rachel, and a great deal of it had been about kinsmen, which affected her greatly. Felicity had no kinsmen. If she did, she didn't know them. She and Ben had spoken of the fact that there was, perhaps, a family somewhere missing their daughter, sister, niece, but attempts to find them had ceased long ago, along with any need to remove Felicity from her new life. She remembered little of her life before Ben, except that her mother was adamant she become a lady.

Did she_ want_ to find her family? Even she was not certain anymore. What if they forced Ben to return to his old master? She was not privy to the full story behind his escape, but she knew enough to fear discovery for his sake.

Come to think of it, Ben was her kinsmen. As long as he did not tire of caring for her, she would stay at her home in the woods.

Now at the sight of Ben's fluttering eyelids and the sound of his sleepy sighs, another passage sprang to her mind; just after Jacob discovered his kin in Rachel.

_And Jacob kissed Rachel, and lifted up his voice, and wept._

Felicity wondered what kissing was like. Was it so powerful that it could make one cry? Or had Jacob wept for another reason?

Ben still wasn't waking up.

She bent her head very close to him, watching for any variation in his features. She giggled at the stillness of them both, the hush over the room, and the way his breath tickled her face. And then, before she could think better of it, she pressed her lips against his for just one second.

Flesh meeting flesh. Nothing remarkable. And yet, there had to be something to it, else why would it cause a grown man to weep?

He didn't stir. If anything, he grew even more still than before.

Dissatisfied with her first try, she put her lips to his again, this time pressing them together firmly in a way that made her upper lip linger a little longer when she pulled away.

Curious.

She sat back on her heels and exhaled.

Once more, then.

This time, she kissed him slowly, tilting her head just so, and opening her lips a little more. This time, her eyes closed of their own volition. This time, Ben stirred.

She jumped back when his lips responded in kind, and her heart flew to her throat the way it did when Penny took a high jump. Before he could open his eyes, she scurried away and busied herself with breakfast.

_-x-_

"Lissie, this morning…"

"Drink your tea, Ben."

She managed to avoid the inquisitive stare by breaking her bacon into little pieces and nibbling on each one.

Much to her frustration, he was not dissuaded. "You should… _we_ should not have done such a thing."

Relieved to hear no anger in his chiding, she looked him straight in the eye and asked why not.

"Tis not what proper folk do who are not married."

She went back to picking at her bacon. Ben thought it the end of their discussion, until she blurted, "Why _aren't_ we married?"

He choked down his mouthful of tea. "I… Wh—What?"

"People in towns always ask if we're husband and wife, since we don't look enough alike to be brother and sister. They think it strange that we live here together with no real relation. You haven't found my family and I don't want you to go back to your apprenticeship… why shouldn't we marry?"

"I…" Ben opened his mouth, but got no further.

"Haven't I grown up enough? You said I should grow up so you could marry me. I'm thirteen now, and plenty old enough to marry. Are you going to keep your promise? You've never broken one before."

Ben didn't reply. His chair was suddenly uncomfortable. He shifted and scooted and tried to find the source of the problem, but it seemed nothing had changed in the makeup of the wood.

Felicity stood and pushed her chair back. "If you don't like me enough, Ben Davidson, just say so and be done with it. Stop squirming like I've starched your breeches."

He wouldn't let her run outside, but grabbed her by the wrist and spun her about to face him. He wanted to repay her for the kisses she gave him that morning, rougher and more needy than she'd been, but he refrained.

"I can't marry you," he stated, frustration showing plainly. "I'm a runaway."

Felicity frowned, not understanding.

"Do you know why I left my old master? No, you wouldn't. I haven't told you, because I'm ashamed of how cowardly I've behaved. I found my master was cheating and instead of confronting him, I left to fight the Cherokee. I injured myself before I saw a single battle and ran from that, too. I didn't return to finish my apprenticeship because I couldn't face that family after going back on my word for nothing. I'm no better than the man I ran from, and that eats at me daily. I've known since the day you said you must marry a gentleman… perhaps even before, that one day you'd grow into the woman Iwould marry. But I've known as well that I could never ask for your hand before making things right."

Felicity clung to the arms that were wrapped around her waist. Impatient as ever, she prodded him with more questions. "What must you do to make things right?"

"First I must go to my master and make amends. Then we shall find your family and seek their blessing."

"What if it takes too long?"

He chuckled. "If your sixteenth birthday comes before we find them, I'll not wait for a blessing. The morning of your birthday, I'll take you to the nearest minister and have done." His smile faltered. "I don't know where to begin. I've asked at every town we've visited if there's a family by the name of Deadwood with no luck."

"Deadwood? My name is not Deadwood."

"That's the name you gave me. The name I've known you by all this time."

"I must have been confused. I was only a little girl, after all. My name is Merriman. Felicity Merriman."

Ben's hands fell to his sides and he turned deathly white.

* * *

**A/N:** Cue dramatic "end scene" score!

And again, this is the 1700's, so I will not apologise for underage kissing. :P


	9. The Runaway's Return

**The Runaway's Return**

They stood before Mr. Merriman's shop door, both frozen with trepidation.

This would have been the making of Ben, had he not run those thirteen years ago to flee rather than speak out on behalf of those being cheated. It was the shop Felicity would have grown up in, had she not been snatched away and robbed of her life as a Merriman.

A woman bedecked in ruffles and lace trimmings from head to toe brushed past them with a sneer. Ben placed a steady hand on Lissie's back to stop her from making an outburst. He had offered to buy her a new gown; one swathed in ruffles and littered with bows to show the Merrimans that he could provide for his Lissie, but she would have felt "deceptive" in so much finery, and not at all herself. The fancy gown was rejected in favor of one of her own making.

She came, instead, dressed in blue with pale stripes. A simple but womanly fashion that suited her well; it accentuated her loveliness without disturbing her comfort. Except for the wide brimmed hat and fichu that she had barely been persuaded to wear.

An onslaught of wonderful scents met Lissie's nostrils as she walked through the door. Cinnamon, tea, leather, honey… Felicity felt home at once. There was something right about this store.

A middle aged man with graying hair and sad eyes emerged from the back where Lissie supposed the storehouse to be. He greeted Ben and Lissie the moment he noticed them standing there and welcomed them to the store.

He had not recognized either of them. Ben went forward and urged a frightened Lissie forward with a gentle tug of her arm. "Mr. Merriman," he said, and his voice made Mr. Merriman start. "I've brought Miss Felicity home."

The jar of pickled beets Mr. Merriman was holding slipped from his hands and met the floor with a crash.

-x-

Her mother cried. Nan, William, and Polly introduced themselves; Nan with all the grace and civility of a proper lady. William pestered Lissie with questions about Indian captivity, thrilled to have a sister who lived such adventures. She answered what little she remembered, feeling strangely at ease with the young lad, though they were practically strangers. At last, Mr. Merriman took Ben and Lissie aside. Felicity stumbled into the private room, bewildered. She had siblings!

When her senses returned to her at last, she realized her father was speaking.

"I considered it a terrible Providence that took you from me; a judgment on my crimes. I have restored all that I stole. I began an honest work, here in this town. I have begged God's forgiveness every day, as I have begged the chance to see you again, alive and well, to ask your pardon. I know you were too young to understand, but now… "

Felicity had heard the story of her father's cheating by a reluctant Ben. She knew she was still an infant when he was driven away by his conscience and by that Providence their paths had never crossed until her abduction. But she had no wish to revisit a past so full of error that she was secretly grateful for. For it was that Providence that brought her to Ben. And at this moment, she had only one thought.

"What of Ben?"

"Ben?" her father exclaimed. "Ben who found you and restored you to us? Ben may have whatever he wishes, up to my entire storehouse!"

"I don't want your storehouse, sir."

"Well, I cannot blame you for wanting a new vocation after all that has passed, but I must pay some restitution. Tell me, what do you want?"

Ben glanced sideways at the girl beside him. She looked curious as to what his reply might be. He covered his smirk with a stray cough, stood a little taller and said, "I want to marry Lissie."

Mr. Merriman gawked at them a moment. "No. She is far too young."

Felicity tried to contain her smiles. "Papa, I'm fourteen…"

"You may have been gone eight years, but I'm fully aware of your age. Wait until you're sixteen. Ben can finish his work in the shop if he chooses to stay near, and your mother will have time to enjoy her daughter without the added complications a wedding would bring. Let her grow used to having a daughter again before she's whisked away."

Felicity could see the sense in that, though she did not want to admit it. Ben was annoyingly smug, as he had already suggested she wait for him until her sixteenth birthday.

She was not happy about waiting.

"This brings to mind a delicate matter I must ask you." Mr. Merriman turned his full attention to Ben and looked most serious. "I must know that you have not taken advantage of my daughter in any way."

Before Ben could respond, Felicity spoke up, partially in retaliation for Ben's apparent smugness.

"Well, he did kiss me."

Ben started. "From time to time, on the forehead or cheek!"

"No, on the mouth."

Hasty not to give her father the wrong idea, he clarified loudly, "_You_ came into _my_ room! _You_ kissed _me._"

"I was only twelve. And you kissed me back."

"Sir…" he pleaded.

"No more. I can see that Felicity refuses to give a serious answer and I must take that as reason enough for my fears to be unfounded. 'Tis a wonder how little she's changed in eight years."

"Aye," Ben said, glaring at the girl. Felicity could not stop smiling.

* * *

**A/N:** I beg your pardon for a very Un-Beta'd snippet. May it still be cause for great joy!


	10. Felicity's Resolution

**Felicity's Resolution**

It was the spring of 1773 and Ben and Felicity struggled to fit in with a changing Williamsburg. Tensions ran high over the Tea Act and its consequences. Loyalists, friends of the Merrimans, were mistreated and arrested. Talk of revolution became a typical after dinner discussion.

Ben valiantly resisted the call to take up arms and join the militia. He had more than one vow to fulfill that kept him occupied in Mr. Merriman's storehouse.

If Felicity sensed his conflict, she did not press the matter. Ben wanted to kiss her for the faith she placed in him, but that was something to be done discreetly and not nearly as often as either would wish.

He could not help but watch the militia muster for training. Felicity was always with him; a presence to remind him why he stayed and did not join the line of rifles gleaming in the sunlight as the men at arms prepared to fight for their freedom.

Today, Lissie gave a little sigh as the backlash took a man off guard and he stumbled. She stared straight ahead as she asked, "Will you join once your two years are up?"

Ben watched her somber expression in private thought.

She went on. "I know you wish to. You watch them practice in the same manner I looked at Elizabeth all those years ago. I can tell you envy them. As you said, 'tis about making amends. You want the chance to do things differently this time around."

Ben frowned and did not answer right away. "I cannot say what the right thing is to do, now. If I fight only for my wounded pride, that is not honorable. I believe our colonies have a right to govern themselves, but I am not certain it will come to war."

"If there is a war, we will need more than soldiers for the cause," Lissie said eagerly, "We'll need riders to deliver mail, men to run the shops, and what will become of Williamsburg if left emptied of all her menfolk? Musn't some stay and defend us here?"

"Time will tell, Lissie girl."

Their quiet thoughts were shaken when shouts rang out from the commanding officer reprimanding an unruly soldier. Felicity tugged distractedly at the ribbon under her chin. "I hate wearing hats. Useless, discomfiting finery."

The next man stepped forward to fire and the officer berated him to fix his stance. "_You_ never made me wear a hat. Although you did worse, like teaching me to read and sew." Startled, the man fired wildly. Lissie felt a puff of wind and brushed her cheek where it tickled. She puzzled that Ben did not respond to tease her.

She turned to see what the matter was and let out a horrible scream.

-x-

Ben was brought to the chamber adjoining William's, and the doctor was sent for immediately. Lissie would not be persuaded to leave the room, but assisted the physician in any use he could find for her, softly calling Ben's name now and then, but receiving no reply. Her parents were not consoled by Lissie's admission that she had seen Ben without a shirt before, and it did not distress her to care for him in such a state. However, she was steadfast and would not budge from his side.

The complications the physician faced in retrieving the bullet made Lissie glad that Ben was not conscious at the time. Though deemed a miraculously clean shot, the greatest danger was infection and fever, and the doctor was resigned to making regular visits to his patient. While he recovered—for Lissie refused to acknowledge the physician's repeated "if"—the movement in his right arm and side would be painfully limited for several weeks at the least.

When at last Ben awoke, it was to a tearful Lissie, hovering over him in great distress.

"I have never seen you cry before," he said in awe, though weak from the exertion it took to speak at all.

"You have never given me a reason," she whimpered, trying not to dwell on the agonized breaths Ben attempted to make. "Until now. Don't frighten me so. You must recover very quickly, do you hear me?"

Ben nodded, but he soon found it impossible to remain awake, and Lissie was left to fret alone.

-x-

Mr. Merriman stole into the guest chamber to comfort his distraught daughter. He made no attempt to extract her from the room, but drew her onto his lap and held her as he did when she was only a little child.

"Oh, Papa!" She had not grown to know him as 'father' and he did not see fit to correct her. "He is all I know. All I have." She thought perhaps it was cruel to dismiss her family so, but she truly felt capable of living well without them. "I know I am a disappointment to you. I know Mama would have me be a fine lady and fit to marry a lord, or an earl, or a duke, if I could. But I am not a fine lady. I am only a more grown up version of your little Felicity who loved horses and apple trees and running barefoot in the grass. And I love Ben. I've known for so long—so long that I can't put a precise day or moment to it, that I would marry Ben. I _must_. I would simply cease to be Felicity with anyone else." A fresh wave of tears overcame her, and she buried her face into her father's shoulder.

He hushed her softly. "Your mother loves you. As do I. She only needs time to adjust to a grown up daughter with a mind already set on her future. We are heartbroken not to have been a presence in your growing years, dearest girl, but equally proud of the young woman you have become. You've always been our independent one. All that matters is that you are here with us once more, safe and happy."

"And that Ben is well again."

"Yes, and that Ben is made well."

The doctor reentered the room to reassess his patient. He shook his head sorrowfully at Felicity's questioning gaze. Her returning groan caused Ben to stir and awaken. He saw the exchange of worried glances and knew what they signified. He stretched his hand out and breathed Lissie's name.

"No," she said in defiance of his acceptance, "You will not break your promise to me, Benjamin Davidson! You promised to marry me and you will keep that promise! I will _not_ let you go back on your word!" Though she refused to say as much, he could see she was frightened. It was evident by the doctor's expression that he felt it unlikely Ben would survive the night, despite Felicity's assertions that he would wake up the next morning "impish as ever and ready to chide us all for worrying so."

"Lissie, my dear…" her father began, but she shushed him with a fierce shake of her darkening hair. "I'm tired of being told to wait. I know 'tis not what you and Mama wanted for me, but Ben is the only thing in the world to make me happy. He's promised to marry me and he'll keep his word. He _will_ recover, and we _will_ be married." Her eyes met Ben's and they, as Lissie's, were full of unbidden tears.

"I expect to be your wife by this week's ending."

* * *

**A/N: **I know. I am a terrible, terrible person to do this to Ben. However, I assure you that I do _not_ believe in character death, nor will I allow this story to be marred with such. Do not lose hope!

Again, this is a _very_ Un-Beta'ed snippet, and I apologize for that as well as for ignoring a lot of the research I did on the subject of musket wounds. How _anyone_ managed to survive one is beyond me. It's for the best, really, that I chose to take artistic liberty. Liberty or death!


	11. Death of a Merriman

**Death of a Merriman**

They were married a little past ten in the morning, with the sunlight bathing the parlor in a buttery glow, making the space seem soft and warm. Felicity wanted the ceremony to take place in the guest chamber so Ben could give his vows in bed, but he would have none of it. He insisted upon standing for his wedding, no matter the pain or risk, and though Lissie accepted it with a shrug of the shoulders and said she was content so long as he fulfilled his promise, he knew that she worried for him.

Felicity's gown was a deep blue silk, trimmed with lace and with elegant ruffled sleeves. The material was purchased for Nan and meant to be made into a ball gown for her, but she happily offered it for the sake of her sister's wedding. Their mother had worked tirelessly to finish it in time. Felicity had never owned anything worth so much by means of those who labored over it.

Her mother fussed over every detail of her raiment, bemoaning the fact that there was not more time to prepare. As she adjusted the pearl around Felicity's neck for the fifth time, she murmured, "Today is the day you forsake the name of Merriman, my sweet girl." She could not utter the sentence without shedding a tear. Felicity understood it must be difficult for her to feel she was losing her daughter so soon after regaining her.

Lissie didn't say what she was thinking; that she had lost that name long ago; that the moment Ben had rescued her from Indian captivity she was as much a Davidson as she could ever hope to be, except for the official taking of his name. Felicity Merriman had died eight years ago. Even in returning to her lost family, she did not feel like a Merriman. Her home, her kin, her family was wherever Ben was. At last that truth would be confirmed.

Nan was dressed in a paler blue, rosy-cheeked and eager-eyed, looking every fulfillment of her parents' expectations. Felicity was amused by their contrast. At eleven, _she_ was gangly, active, and trying. Nan was anything but.

Twas only the family and the minister in attendance. Ben and Lissie stood before him at the great window, the lace curtains overshadowed by Lissie's fine gown. Ben leaned on his crutch only twice during the ceremony, and Lissie pretended not to notice.

She was radiant and poised, and forcing Ben to marry her under duress, he thought wickedly. How his life had taken a turn from only twelve days prior. He was reestablished in the household as a respectable business partner, shown gratitude by a family he had fled from, and given their blessing upon marriage to his own, sweet Lissie. All because he had taken in a feisty six year old and fallen in love with the woman she became. Providence had been abundantly kind to him.

_-x-_

Felicity Davidson removed her veil, folding and draping it over an empty chair. She gave a little sigh and clasped her hands together, bringing her shoulders up and smiling.

She stole to Ben's bedside and settled in her chair to keep watch as he slept. He'd lasted for as long as Felicity deemed him able to before she escorted him upstairs and demanded he get back in bed.

She should change out of her wedding gown, but she didn't feel like doing so just yet. She liked the way it rustled. She felt a fine lady, and was proud to look her best beside her handsome husband as the family gave quiet congratulations.

She hesitated to emerge from behind the screen in her shift. 'Twas not as if it was improper, now they were married, but a small part of her clung to the modesty of her girlhood.

She still would not wear a nightcap.

Late into the night, Ben woke with a start.

"Lissie?"

"I'm here." She took his hand and brought it to her cheek. "Tis Lissie; I'm here."

"Come closer."

She slipped under the covers and he pulled her to him. "I had a sudden feeling that tonight may be my last on this earth."

"Ben, no." she tried to remain steady and defiant, but her voice broke.

"There are far more honorable ways to die than by misfire from a fellow patriot, but I daresay no man can die happier than with the girl he loves in his arms."

She was crying now, curse him. "But you won't die. Not now. I won't sleep at all. I'll pray all night. God will be kind to us."

He kissed the bridge of her nose. "Lissie."

"I cannot think how I should live without you."

"You'll do just fine. You'll be strong for your mother and father, you'll help the children, and someday you'll meet and marry a man more worthy than I."

"You are foolish, Benjamin Davidson," she exclaimed, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. He only pulled her closer and tightened his hold.

"Very well, I am foolish. But don't leave me, Lissie girl."

The last thing he heard before succumbing to the darkness was a whispered "I love you" from his dear Lissie.

_-x-_

Rose had quite a shock when she came to bring a tray of food for Master Ben. Instead of a sleeping man, she found two sleeping bodies in the bed, clinging tightly to one another. The color had returned to his face, and his breathing was steady and calm. She could swear a smile was playing on his lips, even in sleep.

The clatter from her shaking the tea service startled Ben awake and he shushed her impudently so that Lissie might sleep longer.

"I'm awake already," she murmured, but did not open her eyes. "Is it morning?"

Ben tapped a finger over her closed eyelid. "What if it is not?"

"I cannot open my eyes 'til morning. I… I couldn't stay awake and I fell asleep praying. But if morning has come and you're…" she whispered, "Ben, tell me 'tis morning."

"Tis morning, Lissie girl."

She opened her eyes to receive a kiss from her husband. "I told you that you were being foolish."

"I merely thought twice of letting you marry another fool and decided to rally. I am more jealous than I suspected." He kissed her again, making her wriggle happily in his arms.

Rose made a hasty exit and shut the door to the sound of Miss Felicity's giggling.

When Mr. Merriman was told, he laughed outright. "Well, Rose, what do you expect from a newlywed couple? Let them be. I'm sure breakfast won't be on their minds for some time. Unless it's breakfast of another sort."

"My dear!" his wife scolded, pretending to be appalled, but she hid a smile behind her demure façade.

"Do you not worry for them?" she questioned, "For Felicity being so young?"

"No," he said decidedly. "I daresay he'll take better care of her than I could ever hope to. Do not fret, my dear. All is well."

* * *

**A/N:** Well, dear readers, we have reached this story's official end. 'Tis a bittersweet feeling. I will miss having regular updates and staying up far too late before work to hastily edit a chapter I should have finished the night before.

I _do_ have a more extensive "wedding night" chapter planned, but due to sensitive subject material and my wish to keep this a very mild rating, I will not be posting it here. Though if you wish, I'd be happy to email requests. Once it's written, that is. :P

Once again, thank you all for reading and leaving such thoughtful reviews! I'm excited (and nervous) to see how you liked this final piece of Ben-and-Lissieness. Have a lovely Wednesday!


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